Blog 485:
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in age, a man lies in a hospital bed Around him are machines and devices
Symphonically humming a sorrowful tune
Mourning what seems the inevitable demise of his mortal being
His loose, wrinkly skin show invasion
Tiny pricks of needles in and out of it show abuse
Blood clots smear his arms
And reveal the refusal of his veins to bear more assault
He continues to just lay there, eyes closed
Body at rest, though very tired-looking
It neither twitches, nor moves
He barely breathes a slow in and out breath now
Falsely appearing to hold on …
I wondered who chose to make him lie there
Hooked to those artificial life-sustaining apparatuses?
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